


Barely More Than A Memory

by cosima_geekmonkey_niehaus



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 00:09:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1760349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosima_geekmonkey_niehaus/pseuds/cosima_geekmonkey_niehaus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So I was very emotional over the still released from episode 2x09 of Delphine crying on the bed next to Cosima, and these feelings manifested themselves into the following fic. I’ve never written anything before, so I’d appreciate some feedback. Delphine’s POV based off that heart-wrenching still. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Barely More Than A Memory

Cosima remains asleep as you lift yourself slowly and swing your legs over the side of the bed. You look over your shoulder and check that her body is still rising and falling with each breath. They are shallow and ragged ever in her deep sleep, and your stomach clenches with this reminder of her worsening symptoms.

How is it possible that this is the same Cosima you met in Minnesota all those months ago, the outgoing and spirited woman who was full of wonder and excitement and seemed unstoppable? Now she is here in a hospital bed, barely able to catch her breath after saying a single word, suffering seizures daily, the life slipping out of her right before your eyes. It’s almost impossible for you to comprehend that this is your Cosima.

She suddenly coughs a bit in her sleep and shifts slightly so you can see her face. You see her eyes fluttering rapidly with her dreams; the same eyes that used to look at you so earnestly as you discussed the latest scientific publications over dinner. You see her lips, dry and slightly red with blood; the same lips that used to stretch into a child-like grin whenever you walked in the room. Lately the excitement has left her eyes and she rarely smiles, even when you murmur to her in French and tell her how much you love her.

You lift your hand slowly now and brush it over her dreads, which are splayed out over the pillow. They look sad to you laid out like this, motionless. You much prefer her dreads bouncing around as she paces talking excitedly, or swinging back and forth as she dances in the kitchen to her favorite song while you make dinner. Her hair has a life of it’s own that seems to be draining with the progression of Cosima’s illness.

You run your hand down her side now, pausing at her hips. There is no longer as much heat radiating from her as there was when you used to lay your hand here in your own bed every night. You close your eyes as you tighten your grip, and you think back to all those nights, after a few glasses of wine, when Cosima would turn down the lights and put on some music, dancing up to you and drawing you in with her hips, swaying back and forth with the music in the most intoxicating manner. You would do anything now to see that again.

You open your eyes and look at Cosima’s hands, balled up in the sheets as if she’s holding on for her life. And at this point she basically is. You miss the way her hands twist and reach during conversations, as if she’s trying to grab her thoughts and thrust them into your brain. Recently, most of your conversations have been about her disease and your attempts at a cure, and Cosima mostly just sits there staring off into the distance, occasionally nodding or shaking her head. She no longer approaches the disease as the curious scientist she was when you met her; now she sees herself only as the patient, the experiment, the clone, and she’s completely detached and closed off.

You turn away from her now because you can no longer handle the memories of the beautiful life that seems to be lost for good. Even if you can find a cure and save Cosima, you don’t know if she will be able to come back from everything that has happened in the process: the lies, the betrayal, the use of her sisters against her to get answers, the disregard of her ability to make her own decisions about her life and her body. You did all of this for Cosima, to save her life because she is the woman you love. But you feel as if she remains with you now only because she doesn’t want to be alone at the end. You have crossed too many lines, but she has let you back in because she is scared.

A tear wells up in your eye and slowly falls down your cheek. How did you end up like this? It’s all becoming too much for you. You glance back at Cosima as another tear leaks out and you want so desperately to wake her and grab her face between your hands and tell her she is your whole world and you love her more than you can put into words. But you let her sleep, knowing how hard it is for her to get enough rest with her worsening symptoms.

The tears are now coming full force, so with one last look at her, you rise from the bed and head for the bathroom so you can cry without disturbing her. At the door, you pause for a moment as you are hit again with an image of Cosima before - soft eyes, huge grin, dancing freely to her own thoughts, excited by the world around her. A sob escapes your lips and you run out of the room, shoving the last vestige of Cosima’s bliss back into your memory, perhaps the only place it will ever be seen again.


End file.
